"Mr. Stair has been pledging your word during your absence," he said.
"He has promised that you'll sing to us after dinner."
"I? Oh"--nervously--"I don't think I want to sing this evening."
"Why not? Have the"--he made an infinitesimal pause, regarding her the
while with quizzical eyes--"events of the afternoon robbed you of your
voice?"
Diana gave him back his look defiantly. How dared he--oh, how dared
he?--she thought indignantly.
"My adventures weren't serious enough for that," she replied composedly.
The ghost of a smile flickered across his face.
"Then you will sing?" he persisted.
"Yes, if you like."
He nodded contentedly, and as they went in to dinner he whispered:--
"I found the adventure--rather serious."
Dinner passed pleasantly enough. Errington and Stair contributed most of
the conversation, the former proving himself a charming guest, and it was
evident that the two men had taken a great liking to each other. It
would have been a difficult subject indeed who did not feel attracted by
Alan Stair; he was so unconventionally frank and sincere, brimming over
with humour, and he regarded every man as his friend until he had proved
him otherwise--and even then he was disposed to think that the fault must
lie somewhere in himself.
"I'm not surprised that your church was so full on Sunday," Errington
told him, "now that I've met you.
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